


King Under The Ocean

by Meg_Thilbo



Series: 14 Days of Writing [7]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hurt/Comfort, Investigative jounalist Bilbo, M/M, more characters and tags to be added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-18 19:14:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5940064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meg_Thilbo/pseuds/Meg_Thilbo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo travels to a remote town to investigate the disappearances of several fishing boats, the crew having washed up unharmed the next morning. He never would have guessed what he found there nor how deeply he would be caught up in this whole mess. </p><p> </p><p>ALL FICS IN THIS SERIES CAN BE READ INDEPENDENTLY</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Disappearances

**Author's Note:**

> Day 7 of my bagginshield writing spree :)
> 
> So this is going to be a small but multi-chapter work, probably 3 chapters at most, I'll see where it goes. I've been working on this idea for a while :)
> 
> Enjoy!

Cool grey water lapped at the shore, coming just short of Bilbo’s bare toes. A cool breeze rippled over the beach, making goose-bumps rise on his arms but he did not bring his arms around himself to ward off the cold. There was an element about it that he enjoyed.

But he wasn’t here to enjoy himself. He was here to investigate some unusual disturbances. 4 fishing boats had gone missing in the past week, but no-one had died. The men and women aboard had been found on this beach the next morning, intact if not a little cold. Their words were still incoherent, babbling about something to with strange, huge fish that had brought their vessels down.

Their memories had been blank after that, their next having a face full of sand or the bright lights of the emergency rooms.

Crouching down on the sand, Bilbo picked up a torn piece of rope which had floated ashore. He was no expert but the rope here had been cut not torn or worn away. Whatever its origin, it had been deliberately damaged.

Straightening, and keeping the small length of rope in one hand for evidence, he walked along the beach towards the small pier. The shells and sand sank beneath his feet and the hairs on his legs rose to where his trousers were rolled up to just after his knees.

Seagulls circled overhead, setting a very familiar scene. After all, this had been where his parents had often taken him as a child. After their death he thought he’d never return. Similar to many occasions, he’d been proven wrong. Although he never would have guessed he’d have returned as an investigative journalist.

One of the downfalls of his job was that he sometimes didn’t get to choose where he went, but even he couldn’t resist not knowing what had happened to these ships after Gandalf had put the local newspaper reports on his desk. They had blamed the storms and delirium caused by salt water intake, but Bilbo knew something wasn’t right.

There was something more out there. He just knew it.

The planks creaked beneath his feet as he paused to wipe down his feet and slip his shoes back on, before walking along its edge, putting one hand on the cold metal rail which ran along it.

Bilbo gazed down at the frothy water below, not seeing anything other than the sky and his silhouette. But he kept looking, flicking his eyes out towards the horizon every few minutes to see if there was anything further out.

Coming to the end of the pier, he rested his elbows on the side, simply watching the swell of the ocean waves.

He knew basking sharks sometimes came into these waters, along with dolphins and the occasional blue whale, but even he did not think they could have caused an entire ship to come down. It was usually they that washed up on the shore, having been hit by the rig or snared in one of the nets.

It was then a dark shape caught his eye in the water, not ten meters away. Blinking, Bilbo tried to focus on whatever it was. But his glasses were slightly damp from the sea spray and he could barely make out any detail. Judging by the shape though it could be a buoy, or perhaps even a head.

Who was swimming in these conditions?

Bilbo was just about to call out when a hand landed on his shoulder. Startled, Bilbo automatically spun round, relaxing only when he saw it was a portly man behind him with an expression too kind to suggest any ill intention.

“I’m sorry t’ frighten yeh,” the man said, removing his hand from Bilbo’s shoulder to pull on his white beard. “You the journalist everyone’s been talkin’ about?”

“Y-yes,” Bilbo answered uncertainly, before clearing his throat and answering more clearly, “Yes, I suppose I must be. Bilbo Baggins,” he said, sticking out his hand.

“Balin Fundinson,” the man replied, giving his hand a firm shake. “What’s your intentions here mister Baggins?” he asked curiously.

“Well… to hopefully get to the bottom of where these boats are going,” Bilbo replied, “Seems rather odd that they seem to be disappearing, one after another when the last boat to missing was nearly a decade ago.”

Balin hummed, glancing out over the waters. Bilbo followed his line of sight and saw that the shape had disappeared, it was nowhere to be seen even against the rolling waves.

“Odd indeed,” Balin agreed, “Do you have any theories?”

Forcing his eyes away from scanning the sea, he met Balin’s eyes, “Not really,” he admitted, “I thought pirates may be taking the vessels but I hadn’t thought they would have been so kind as to return the sailors to shore. I then thought potential sabotage, rival fishing boats clashing but I’ve felt no ill will towards one another whilst I’ve been here. I’ve looked at charts of the surrounding ocean and can’t find anywhere where they may have hit rocks or shallow sea, so I’m currently just asking around and getting a feel of the place.”

“A wise choice,” Balin nodded, “You don’t seem like a bad person Mister Baggins.”

“I try not to be, and please, call me Bilbo,” Bilbo said, smiling slightly under the praise, however his smile slipped slightly under the next comment.

“If you find the answer to all of this,” Balin added, “I do hope you balance the cost and find a peaceful resolution.” And with that, he dipped his hat at Bilbo and walked back along the dock, leaving a baffled journalist in his wake.

What on earth was all that about?

*

The conversation still lay heavy on Bilbo’s mind when he finally meandered back to the inn where he was staying, stopping off at the bar to grab a cup of tea and add some notes to his dairy.

_12 th August 2010_

_Nothing ground breaking today. Scouted out the shore, found a rope that appears to have been cut. And spoke to an unusual man who seemed to know more than he was saying. Should I meet him again, I will try and get some more information out of him. Until then, I will try and see if I can talk to the victims of the disappearances._

_There’s something not right about this town. Walking back, the people seem restless and quiet. There is none of the usual gossip and chatter that you might have expected. Maybe they’ve been affected by these disappearances more than I realised. I will get to the bottom of this whole mess, no matter how deep I have to go to do so._

“Any luck today, Bilbo?” a familiar voice said from across him.

Lifting his eyes, he recognised the owner Bard sit across from him. Apparently he was very popular in town, very well respected indeed for his fair dealings with the townsfolk and for bringing fair trade to them.

“Not exactly,” Bilbo sighed, leaning back into the cushions, “Do you know whether I would be able to meet with the people found on the beach?”

Bard frowned slightly, “I don’t think their families will let you, not after they’ve been ridiculed by many of the townsfolk for what they’ve been saying. They may fear a journalist would only make things worse by publishing their comments, mark out the family and all that.”

Bilbo sagged slightly in disappointment, he needed to know, from their own mouths, what they knew. Words would have filtered back like Chinese whispers by now, it was difficult to know what was embellished or not.

But then Bard added, “There is one who may speak to you,” he said, regaining Bilbo’s interest, “His name’s Robin. Doesn’t have much family I don’t think and may be more inclined to speak to someone who is willing to listen.”

Bilbo nodded, jotting down the name in his book, “How may I reach him?”

“He lives in a cottage just a few blocks down here. Look, I’ll write the address down so you don’t forget,” he said, leaning over to scribble the address under Bilbo’s writing, “he was discharged three days ago.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo said honestly. It wasn’t much but it may get them somewhere.

“And there is another who may be able to help you,” Bard started.

“Another survivor?” Bilbo asked, pen poised.

“Not exactly,” Bard said, shaking his head, “He’s lived here for a very long time, longer than most in fact. He understands this town better than anyone, particularly our nature and waters.”

“His name?”

“Beorn,” Bard answered, “he lives a bit further away. After the town became more populated he moved into the countryside surrounding us in a small house. He’s not too fond of people, keeps mainly to himself, but I’ve got a feeling he’ll talk to you.”

“Ok,” Bilbo said, “I’ll try and get round to seeing him in the next few days after I’ve spoken to Robin.”

“Good luck to you,” Bard said standing, “I best get back to work, do you need anything? Tea? Cake?”

“I’m fine, thank you, for all this,” Bilbo said, gesturing to his book.

Bard just nodded and smiled, slipping back behind the bar and into the back.

Perhaps the day had been more successful than he’d previously thought, Bilbo thought to himself, taking a sip of his tea. At least he had a direction now.

*

After double checking the address and number on the door, Bilbo raised his hand to knock, three short but clear raps. Soon enough he could hear movement from the other side, doors opening and closing and footsteps slowly getting closer.

The door opened to reveal a short skinny man, he looked to be well into his 60s, far older than Bilbo had expected for a working man of the sea.

“Can I help yeh?” he asked, looking suspiciously down at Bilbo. He kept the door closed enough to not be welcoming, but open enough to reveal at least half of body.

“Good afternoon,” Bilbo said politely, “My name is Bilbo Baggins, I’m-”

“You’re that journalist who’s been rackin’ up a storm in town,” Robin finished for him, “I suppose you’re here to ‘ask me some questions’.”

“I’d like to listen to what you have to say, yes,” Bilbo replied, “I won’t publish anything that you don’t want me to. I just want to get to the bottom of what’s been happening to you and your crew.”

Robin stared at him for a moment before opening the door wider, “Yeh best come in then,” he said roughly, turning to walk into the house as Bilbo stepped through, shutting the door behind himself.

The hallway was small and cramped, paintings of ships on the walls and a staircase leading to the next floor dominated the space.

Bilbo followed the man silently into a sitting room, taking a seat across from the man when he was indicated to do so. A pressure against his leg made him look down to catch a black and white cat rubbing his head along his ankles and calves.

“Ignore Crusoe,” Robin said, “Just hasn’ had his dinner yet is all. Missin’ the fish I used to bring home.”

Bilbo smiled and heed his advice, pulling out his notebook and paper, marking the date. “So your boat went missing on August 5th?”

“Tha’s right,” Robin agreed, “First one to go missing.”

“And what can you tell me of what you remember. Please don’t miss any detail, however irrelevant it may seem, it all helps piece this together.”

“We headed out early that mornin’, me and the lads. It was a clear day, wind wasn’t too bad and the waves were fair. But we weren’t two miles out of shore that we felt the first bump,” he said ominously.

“And then what happened,” Bilbo asked, scribbling furiously.

“We thought we’d hit a rock or summin’. So we checked t’maps and couldn’t find anything so just assumed it was a dolphin or something, we get those sometimes. But then our boat got hit again and one of our men ran up to report water was flooding the lower decks. I sent a couple of my men down to see if they could stop it whilst I focussed on slowing the boat down. It was then our entire vessel capsized.”

“Capsized?” Bilbo repeated, shocked.

“Aye, she went over entirely,” Robin said, shaking his head, “And then it was chaos, I went under and couldn’t find the surface for the life of me. I thought I was going to die. But just as my lungs started burnin’, I saw this- this creature in the water. I blacked out not long after and next thing I know I’m lay on the beach surrounded by my crew.”

“Can you describe the creature for me?”

“Not fish, not man, something halfway between. And more terrible than either alone,” the man growled, “The fury of the ocean in living form it t’was. Cursed we are.”

“I wouldn’t go jumping to any conclusions just yet, sir,” Bilbo said, finishing his notes, “But you’ve been very helpful and I’ll do my best to find out what’s happened. I’m sorry for the loss of your vessel.”

“Had her since I was just starting out,” he said morosely, “My whole life was on the sea. And now I’ve been forced into retirement.”

“Like I said, I’ll do my best,” Bilbo said. “Is there anything else you’d like me to know?”

“That’s all,” Robin said, “I’d offer you a cup of tea but the bleedin’ kettle’s on the blink.”

“That’s quite alright,” Bilbo said, smiling, “I won’t outstay my welcome. I best be asking some more questions in town.”

“Let me know how you get on,” Robin said, standing with him to show him out.

“I shall,” Bilbo said in earnest, “Goodbye Crusoe, I’ll try and remember to bring him some mackerel next time I visit.”

Robin smiled at that, “Bloody cat’s spoilt,” he said, “But he’d like that.”

Smiling, Bilbo waved his goodbye’s before heading into town, the man’s words echoing across his mind as he tried to give a logical explanation to the man’s story. A fish-man taking down a ship? Maybe he had been delirious, but if what he’d heard of the other stories was anything to go by, this wasn’t something he could pass off as mere craziness.

*

What had started off as a fruitful day quickly turned into one that led him in circles. Of the few who would speak to him, they denied any existence of any creature that lay out at sea. ‘Fairy tales’ they’d said, ‘nothing more’.

Perhaps he would have more look at this Beorn’s place. It couldn’t hurt to try, and if he continued as he was in town, he was just going to run into another dead end.

It was with that thought that he set off towards the exterior of town, following the directions Bard gave him.

It wasn’t long before he pulled up on the long driveway of a lodge that must have been the one he was looking for. There was nothing but heathland and the occasional copse of trees around them, no other house which he could have gotten mixed up with.

Stepping out of his car, Bilbo shut his door and was about to head towards the front door when he heard the sounds of wood being chopped. Figuring the person he was looking for was around the back, Bilbo cautiously rounded the building, keeping in mind what Bard had said about

As he came to the back of the building his step faltered as he took in the sight of the huge man before him. Beorn stood at least three heads taller than Bilbo, and had the muscles to show for it, which Bilbo couldn’t help but notice every time the man managed to cut a log cleanly in two. His hair was long and unkempt, and as he turned to face Bilbo, he saw that a scraggly beard also adorned the man’s cheeks.

“What business do you have here?” the man boomed, arms folding over the handle of his axe.

Plucking at whatever courage he had, Bilbo answered, “My name is Bilbo Baggins. I was told by a friend of mine that you may be able to help me.”

“Oh aye?” the man growled, “And what does a little bunny such as yourself want my help for?”

Ignoring the strange nickname, Bilbo added, “I want to know more about where these boats are going. There have been strange sightings of erm… fish people, I want to know more about them and what they have to do with these boats.”

That raised a grizzled eyebrow, “You mean the Merpeople?”

Bilbo blinked, but before he could answer, Beorn buried his axe blade in the stump he’d been chopping on and started walking towards him. “You better come inside then.”

Speechless, Bilbo followed him and he led him through the back door of the building and into a rustic cabin. Despite its intimidating size, Bilbo could almost liken the place to Bag-End in its homeliness. Wooden beams stretched across the ceiling and a warmth exuded from the place. From what have been an uncomfortable start, became much more comforting indeed.

A loud bark greeted them as they entered a smaller sitting room. Bilbo’s eyes widened as he came nose to nose with a panting Irish Wolfhound, the dog’s breath ruffling Bilbo’s hair.

Beorn barked something in a language Bilbo was unfamiliar with, making the dog look between the men before padding off into the kitchen behind them.

Gesturing to one of the two armchairs by the fire, Beorn said, “Shall we get started then?”

Nodding, Bilbo sat down, noticing now that the house had no electrical items whatsoever, he truly was a man of nature.

“You said that these creatures are called Merpeople?” Bilbo prompted, readying his notepad.

Beorn nodded, taking the chair next to him. “Half man, half fish, part of the lesser known beings of this world. They’re a secretive folk, keep mainly to themselves but every now and then, one or two make themselves known one way or another.”

“Do you think they could be behind these disappearances?” Bilbo asked. It all seemed rather farfetched, even to someone open-minded like him, but it couldn’t hurt to gather what information he could. It was difficult enough finding someone willing to talk to him about anything.

The man shrugged, “Maybe,” he said, “And then maybe not, I cannot say. They are capable but that does not imply cause. You would be best asking one of them.”

Bilbo stopped writing, “How wo-” his words fell short as the dog returned to the room carrying a tray of scones and tea perfectly balanced on his back. Well, that dog certainly was well trained, when Bilbo and his parents had had a dog, they could barely get it to sit, let alone make them afternoon tea.

“Thank you,” Bilbo said to both the dog and the man, not sure entirely who he should be thanking in this situation, taking the smaller of the two cups.

The dog barked as the tray was removed from his back and set on the small table between them. The hound then curled up in front of the fire, resting his head on his oversized paws but keeping a watchful eye on his master and his guest.

Continuing his question, Bilbo said, “How would I find one of them?”

“If they want to be found, they will find you. You may have already met one of them,” Beorn suggested, taking a bite of a scone.

“I think I would have remembered,” Bilbo chuckled, taking a scone in turn. It was then that Bilbo noticed the tattoos that laced Beorn’s arms. They were faint, only seen by the tilted light cast by the fire, but he could make out tattoos of chains which circled his wrists. And what looked to be a bear standing on its hind legs, ran the length of his right forearm. Curious choice of tattoos but Bilbo was no man to judge.

Beorn shook his head, “They look like any other on land. At sea, that’s a different matter. Harder to find but much easier to notice when you do. An opportunity may arise sooner than you think.”

Before Bilbo could ask what that meant, his phone rang in his pocket. He usually turned them off before interviews but he must have forgotten. Babbling out his apologies, he reached into his pocket and saw the caller ID as Bard. Frowning, Bilbo asked whether he could take this and when Beorn nodded his assent, Bilbo got up and walked to the edge of the room before answering.

“Hi Bard, what’s up?” Bilbo asked, keeping his voice low.

“Bilbo,” Bard sounded breathless, “Bilbo, you better come back quick, a man just ran in here looking for you. He wants you to come look at this… this _thing_ they’ve caught. I’ve managed to stop him from alerting the whole town by saying it’s probably a joke but you better come look.”

The blood drained from Bilbo’s face, of all the people he’d confided in about the creatures following his conversation with Robin, it had been Bard. “I’m on my way.”

“Okay… it’s at the old fishery in town, you know the-”

“Yeah, yeah I think I know where you mean.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you there,” Bard finished.

“See you there,” Bilbo added, hanging up the phone and stuffing it in his pocket.

Hurrying back to his seat, he quickly put his notepad away, addressing Beorn as he did so. “I’m so sorry, I’m going to have to dash off. Thank you for your help,” Bilbo rambled, sticking out his hand at the end, which Beorn took, engulfing it in his.

“Do the right thing, Master Baggins,” Beorn said, releasing his hand after shaking it.

Nodding, but not understand what he meant, “I’ll try to,” he said before he turned heel and scurried to his car, only taking a moment to breath before he strapped his seatbelt on and was turning as quickly as he could on the driveway.

He hoped this wasn’t what he thought it was going to be. But then, if anything so far was anything to go by, it would.


	2. The King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo meets a, rather angry, King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank for the support and comments on the last chapter, nice to see enthusiasm for more :)
> 
> Enjoy!

The sun was just setting as Bilbo pulled up to the old fishery. It was an old and closed off building, the exterior walls rusted and white paint peeling.

No sooner had he stepped out of the car that Bard was running up to him.

“Bilbo! I’m so glad you made it!” he said.

Meeting him halfway, Bilbo fell into step beside him as they headed towards the doors. “What is this all about?”

“I’m not sure,” Bard admitted, “He won’t let me see it, only you.”

“Has anyone else…?”

“No, he was worried this may be practical joke of some kind and wanted an outsider’s opinion before the town was alerted. Only he and his crew have seen it.”

“Good,” Bilbo nodded, relaxing a tad that he knew he wouldn’t have a mob waiting for him.

One of the fishermen that Bilbo recognised from his inquiries round town was stood in front of the doors and stepped forward when he saw them approach.

The man seemed shaken, his face pale and shoulders hunched. He was one of the younger boat masters, late 30s at most.

“Bilbo Baggins?” he inquired.

Bilbo nodded, eyes flickering to the building and back.

“We threw it in there,” he said, gesturing to the building behind him. “Can’t get close enough to look at it properly but it’s not human. That’s for sure.”

“How did you catch it?”

“Got caught in one of our nets. We thought we was going down, same as the others. After the first bang, we pulled our net in and inside it was this _thing_. After that, there was some disturbance in the water but we felt nothing else. We came back after that.”

Bilbo nodded, figuring if he was going to get anywhere he best go investigate himself. “Do you mind if I…?” he asked, gesturing to the door behind them.

The man raised his hands, “Go ahead,” he said, “I ain’t going in there again.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Bard asked but Bilbo shook his head.

“I don’t want to scare it,” he explained and Bard nodded.

“Okay,” he agreed, “but be careful.”

Giving him a weak smile, Bilbo pushed open the doors just enough for him to slip inside before closing them after him. Keeping his back to the door, Bilbo let his eyes adjust to the room in front of him.

It was a fairly small room, must be one of many in the building. Dust clouds billowed through the air, illuminated by the dying shafts of lights streaming through the gaps in the wall. A torn up fishing net lay strewn across the room but there was nothing in it.

A few half rotted tables stood in the room, and behind one, Bilbo could see a crumpled form, pushed into the corner. It moved slightly as Bilbo started around the table towards it.

A gasp escaped him as his eyes fell on man in the corner. His torso was broad and well-muscled, covered in light splashes of dark hair which matched the long hair on his head. The man’s expression was that of anger, a fury that danced in his blue eyes unlike any other that Bilbo had witnessed. Two braids framed his face, slipping past his short beard and ending in two silver and sapphire clasps which rested on his collar bones.

But that wasn’t nearly the most startling thing about him. No… beyond his waist was where skin ended and scales began- dark scales that Bilbo would have said were black if not for the flashes of blue as they caught the light, and many were tinted with silver, almost like a starlit sky.

“And so it is you who must decide my fate,” the man said after a long period of silence. His voice was deep but calmer than Bilbo would have expected, but now that Bilbo looked at him, there was a tiredness which pulled at his eyes. And judging by the amount of water on the floor, the man had been struggling for some time.

Bilbo gaped like a fish for a moment before collecting himself, “I- my name is Bilbo Baggins… I-if I may be as bold as to ask your name?”

The man looked surprised by the question but he answered anyway, “Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King under the Ocean.”

Bilbo gulped, “I see,” he said. “Why haven’t you erm… y-your legs, ah…” He’d remembered back on what Beorn had said about the Merpeople, if they looked like any other on land, why did Thorin still have his tail? He wasn’t sure quite how to phrase it without offending the being.

Thorin narrowing his eyes at Bilbo, “How do you know about our kind?” he asked suspiciously.

“I have a… a friend who is familiar with your race,” Bilbo answered, deciding it might be best if he did not mention Beorn by name. “But you did not answer my question…”

“And why should I answer the questions of a man who is holding me captive?” he countered, “What do I owe you?”

“I merely wish to help.”

“Help? You cannot help us,” Thorin growled, wincing slightly as he got himself comfortable on the floor. His body was bent at an odd angle, his tail not allowing him to sit up properly and more slouch crookedly against the wall.

“I need to know why these boats are going missing,” Bilbo insisted, “I was told your people had something to do with it.”

Thorin’s eyes flared, “Aye, we brought them down,” he said without shame, “They strayed into our waters to take what little food we have. I can watch my people starve no longer.”

“You’re starving?”

“Many of us yes,” Thorin answered, “We have been forced all along the coasts in search of new populations of fish. But there are none. The waters are becoming empty, and not just for us, but for all life. We took matters into our own hands.”

Thorin winced again, twisting more so that his fin was more sideways. It was then that Bilbo noticed a horrid looking gash along his flank, leaking blood onto the floor with each disturbance. With the dark of the room and the dark of his scales, Bilbo hadn’t noticed.

“Would you be opposed to me tending to that wound along your side?” Bilbo asked him, “It looks nasty.”

“I’m fine,” Thorin insisted through gritted teeth, putting a broad hand over the wound as though covering it would heal it. But against the paleness of his hands, Bilbo could see blood start to well up between his fingers.

Deciding that Thorin would just have to accept his help, Bilbo stepped out of the building for a moment, ignoring the way those blue eyes followed him.

Bard and the fisherman jumped to attention when Bilbo came out and he was suddenly faced with a dilemma. Did he confirm what they had found? What would the people do with him? All answers which sprang to mind were not favourable in the slightest and so Bilbo made a decision he hoped he would not regret.

“I’ve scouted the entire building but there is no trace of the creature,” Bilbo explained, scratching the back of his head, a nervous habit he’d picked up from his father.

“What?!” they both said in unison. The fisherman continued, “Bloody thing must’ve escaped. Knew it was a ruse. Pranksters,” he cursed, spitting onto the ground. “Well I’m goin’ home, wasted enough time here with this farce,” he said, before taking off towards the carpark.

That had certainly gone better than expected. Doubt was a powerful thing indeed.

Once he was out of earshot, Bilbo turned to Bard, “Do you have a med kit of some kind?”

Looking surprised, “I do yes, carry one just in case with the kids. Are you hurt?” he asked, eyes looking for a hidden wound.

“Not me,” Bilbo said, gesturing with his head behind them.

Bard’s mouth dropped open, “So it’s all true then, there is a creature in there?”

Bilbo nodded, “Apparently so, but he’s hurt bad and can’t move. Will you help us?”

“Of course, yeah, my car’s just parked over here,” he said in a bit of a daze, hurrying over to the Land rover parked to the side of the car park.

After a bit of rummaging, Bard produced a First Aid bag. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, it’s okay I can handle this,” Bilbo assured him, noting the relief in Bard’s eyes, “Go home to your kids, they’ll be missing you.”

“Okay, call me if you need anything,” Bard said, slipping into his vehicle.

Bilbo nodded and waved him off, hurrying back over to the building to where Thorin was lying.

When he found him again, Thorin was panting slightly against the wall, hand clutched firm over the wound. When he heard Bilbo re-enter, he looked up with a scowl as he approached the King.

Ignoring the way Thorin tried to move away from him, Bilbo said, “If you don’t let me help you, you’ll probably get infected and die where you are. I can’t move you in this state.”

Thorin stopped moving as Bilbo knelt beside him, opening the bag. “Do you make a habit of defying a King’s requests, Master Baggins?”

“Only when they act like stubborn children,” Bilbo responded, pulling out some wipes to mop up the blood around the cut. He may have been a bit harsh considering the circumstances, but if he didn’t know better, the king’s lips did lift a little before resuming their deathly scowl.

“Do you have any?” Bilbo asked, making Thorin frown.

“Any what?”

“Children,” Bilbo clarified, hoping to take the King’s mind off of the situation.

Thorin was quiet for a moment, considering whether or not to answer, but then he said, “No, my sister has children, they will be my heirs. Having children is not in my future.”

Bilbo got his drift and didn’t push the matter, he continued cleaning the blood which had dried on the scales so that he could see the cut better. It wasn’t deep and wouldn’t need stitches, Bilbo just made sure to disinfect it properly and to see whether the bleeding would stop. He didn’t suppose he would be able dress it or cover it with Thorin’s, ah… water habits.

Thorin watched him carefully, blue eyes never leaving Bilbo’s face and hands whilst he worked. “Why do you want to help us?” he asked, the harsh tone from earlier replaced by a much softer one.

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” Bilbo answered, sitting back on his heels, “I can’t say I understand all of this, nor that half of me really believes it all. But if I can make a compromise between your people and the townspeople, I will.”

Thorin blinked at him, eyes filling with emotion but tearing away. He didn’t say anything but Bilbo understood he was grateful.

“Will you be able to swim like this?” Bilbo asked him and Thorin returned his gaze before assessing the cut himself.

“I’ve had worse,” he said, and it was then that Bilbo noticed the scars that were splattered across his chest, almost covered by the hair there. “I’ll need to change though.”

“Right,” Bilbo said, feeling suddenly awkward. He didn’t suppose this would be like the movies where clothes would somehow materialise out of nowhere. “I’ve got a blanket I keep on the backseat of my car,” he said, standing to give Thorin some privacy.

It may have been his imagination, but Bilbo could’ve swore he heard a muttered ‘thank you’ as he was leaving, giving him a reason to smile as he headed to his car.

By the time Bilbo returned with the small tartan blanket, Thorin’s tail had gone and been replaced by two very naked legs. In this state, he could’ve passed for any other man, the only odd thing being the lack of clothes and cut along his left thigh.

Bilbo felt his cheeks heat as he took in the man before him but he forced his gaze away as he loosely passed Thorin the blanket. Once he’d gotten covered, Bilbo extended a hand and helped him to his feet, almost being pulled down himself by Thorin’s weight.

“How’s the leg?” Bilbo asked, not letting go of Thorin’s arm.

Thorin winced as he tested it but managed to get some of weight onto it. “It’ll hold till we get to the sea,” he said.

“Okay,” Bilbo said, positioning Thorin’s arm around his shoulder to give him some support at least. He was surprised when Thorin did not protest but decided not to question it.

It was a slow walk to the sea, but it wasn’t far. Thorin limped along silently beside Bilbo, his arm a slightly uncomfortable but not unwelcome weight on his shoulders. It was released when they finally got to the sea edge and Thorin turned to face Bilbo, handing him back his blanket, which Bilbo accepted, purposely avoiding looking down.

“Thank you,” Thorin said genuinely.

Bilbo just smiled, mumbling something about nothing.

Thorin continued, “If you ever have need of us, come to the edge of the pier and we will come.” And then he touched his forehead to Bilbo’s for only a couple of seconds before releasing him. He gave a flustered Bilbo a short smile before he was wading out to sea.

Bilbo watched him, and just as he came to his mid-waist, he dived under the surf and he was gone. And even then Bilbo waited to see if there would be any more sign of him.

But the ocean had swallowed him entirely, and the cold eventually forced Bilbo back to his car.

Now, he had to plan how he would resolve this whole ordeal. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :) I'm hoping to get the next chapter written today. I know where I'm going with this but today is a bit hectic with exam results (got 3 1sts whoop!) and lab work but I'll hopefully have time. If not it'll be out in the next couple of days and I'll release a shorter fic in the interim. 
> 
> I did question how to write Thorin's mood, but judging by how he behaved in Thranduil's halls, silent fury seems to be Thorin, except when aggravated further. Had I more time I perhaps would have taken longer to develop their friendship but next chapter is going to be learning some Merpeople lore and further relationship development as well as how this is going to be resolved. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed :) 
> 
> Have a majestic day!


	3. Old Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo plans his next move and learns more about Thorin and his people.

It was times like this that Bilbo wished he had his parents to talk to. They would always know what to do in this situation, but Bilbo knew he had to solve it himself, and he wouldn’t leave this town until he’d done so.

On the one hand he had the fishermen. They relied on the seas for much of their income and was their specialist trade. Could he be the one to tell them that they could no longer fish in the seas they’d come to love?

And then there were the Merpeople, who had taken it into their own hands to protect what little food they had left. Surely they had the right to the stocks more than the people on land?

If things carried on the way they had been, it wouldn’t be long before another one of Thorin’s people got caught and Bilbo doubted whether he’d be so lucky next time to sort things out.

Sitting at his desk, his spread out the map in front of him, taking note of the points where boats had gone missing. As he’d previously noticed, they all became lost at least 2 miles from sea and were clustered around the same area. That must be where the conflict occurred, where the boundaries between their races were crossed.

Bilbo wringed a hand across his face in exhaustion. He didn’t know how to do this. He was no politician nor a peacemaker or hero. He just reported the facts as he saw them. And in this situation, he knew his career would be over as soon as he dared to suggest anything supernatural was taking place. Perhaps Gandalf would just demote him to a filing position.

But then, maybe he didn’t have to tell the whole truth… at least not all of it. Just get enough of the right people to listen. The people who could make the decisions he couldn’t. But he needed to know more, he needed to know how he could help Thorin’s people. Thorin…

There was something about the man which fascinated Bilbo. And it wasn’t down to the fact that his lower half was not entirely human, there was something more about him. It was in that final exchange between them that Bilbo had been able to see a kinder side beneath that hard exterior. For bad times can make the surest of smiles fall, and the strongest of men falter. But Thorin kept pushing on for his people. And that in itself was admirable.

Leaning back in his chair, Bilbo gazed around at the notes, maps and charts before him. All data he’d been collecting since his arrival.

Making the choice to go to the pier tomorrow and try and fill in the gaps in his knowledge, Bilbo switched off the desk light and let the light dim, the simple action in itself was enough to raise a yawn from him.

Slipping out of his clothes, he climbed into bed, allowing the warmth and security of the covers reassure him that tomorrow would be the day he’d gather the last pieces he needed.

*

The beach was quiet again the following day. Children were at school, and even if they weren’t, Bilbo was unsure whether their parents would even allow them to play here anymore.

Focussing on the pier ahead of him, Bilbo made out the shape of four figures, all stood and gazing out to sea. The two smaller men appeared deep in conversation but Bilbo couldn’t quite make them out, it wasn’t until he got closer and stepped onto the familiar wooden planks that he was able to recognise two of the men. One being Balin, if he remembered his name correctly, and the other being Thorin which made Bilbo blink twice.

They had their backs to him, but there was no mistaking Thorin’s long hair nor the way he held himself. And he was quite thankful that Thorin was wearing clothes this time, although he had no idea where he’d got the dark jeans nor the jacket and shirt from.

As he approached, one of the youths with dark hair turned towards him with a wide grin on his face. The other looked too as the young one called, “You must be mister Boggins!”

Bilbo blinked, “Erm it’s-”

“Ignore my brother,” the blonde one said, by this point Balin and Thorin had turned to watch the exchange. “I’m Fili, and this is Kili.” And even more to his surprise, they bowed before him in perfect unison, leaving Bilbo without any words to give.

“I apologise for my nephew’s behaviour,” Thorin said as he stepped forward, drawing Bilbo’s attention back to him.

“No, no it’s quite alright,” Bilbo babbled, feeling pressured under the weight of the four pairs of eyes. “How’s your leg?” he asked, casting the limb a casual glance.

“Better,” Thorin answered with a smile, “thanks to you,” he said inclining his head.

“It’s nothing,” Bilbo waved off, now turning his attention to Balin, “It’s nice to meet you again Mr. Fundinson.”

“Call me Balin,” the man said with a kind smile, “Yes, quite a storm was raised last night when our king here went missing. We thank you for getting him back to us.”

“So you…” Bilbo said, not sure how best to phrase it. He hadn’t been sure up until this point whether Balin was one of them or was just talking to them as he had done to Bilbo not a few days earlier.

“Aye,” Balin nodded, “Although I seem to have lost my sea legs of late, I prefer to stand out on land and keep an eye on things.”

“Shall we move somewhere more sheltered?” Thorin asked as the wind picked up and Bilbo was grateful for the suggestion, the cold was not always kind to him.

“There’s a café around the corner from here if that’d suit?” Bilbo suggested. It was a quiet place, busy enough not be overheard but not crowded enough that they’d draw too much attention to themselves.

“This is your show,” Thorin said and Bilbo gave him a slight smile as they began walking towards the end of the pier and to where he knew the café was. Bilbo had fallen in step with Thorin, but it wasn’t far before Fili and Kili had pulled up on the opposite side of him.

Kili began, “Uncle Thorin hasn’t stopped telling us about how you helped him.”

Bilbo blushed, “Well I hardly…”

“Which is weird really,” Fili remarked, “Our uncle doesn’t talk much about others at all.”

“Boys,” Thorin warned, causing them to drop back behind them, but not before Kili had thrown Bilbo a wink, leaving him thoroughly bemused. “I mentioned it once,” Bilbo thought he heard Thorin mumble which made him raise an eyebrow slightly. He supposed Balin must have mentioned him to the King and his nephews, but what had the king been saying about him?

He had little time to dwell on the matter before they’d reached the café and Bilbo headed in first, deciding to take the lead just in case any of them did something out of the ordinary. Although he very much doubted that they would just sprout fins whilst they were there, he was unsure of what they knew of human etiquette.

Bilbo chose a table towards one of the windows, away from any curious ears but close enough that the sound would muffle their voices. He sat down and gestured for the others to do the same after they just stood and watched him there.

Not long after they were seated, a waitress walked up to their table. “Can I get you guys anything to drink?” she asked pleasantly.

“I’ll have a tea please,” Bilbo said the realised that the others were watching him with confused expressions, all except for Balin that is, and Bilbo supposed he’d spent enough time among men to understand different beverages.

“Actually, make that a pot,” Bilbo said, causing the waitress to smile.

“I’ll bring that right over,” she said before leaving them.

“So how can we help you mister Baggins?” Balin asked from his seat beside Bilbo. Fili and Kili, Bilbo noted, had already lost interest and were busy looking at the menu, giggling at the strange words there that they had not come across before.

Bilbo leaned forward, keeping his voice low, “I have an idea of how I may help you, but I need to know more. Do your people have a distinct area or kingdom that you’d like to protect? I have noticed that boats disappear around the same areas so I was wondering whether I could ward people away from those areas in some way.”

Thorin shook his head, “We used to. Since the fall of Erebor, we have become nomadic, not being able to settle anywhere due to the rise and fall of the fish stocks. We have settled here for the past year, hoping to give our people some peace but we cannot compete with the men here. It will not be long until they replace what we took and then we will be forced to move on again.”

“What happened to Erebor?” Bilbo asked curiously, never having heard of the place. But then he supposed it must be somewhere deep underwater.

“Smaug,” Balin answered darkly, even the word made the hairs on the back of Bilbo’s neck stand on end. Thorin’s face fell blank, but Bilbo could see an anger and hatred within those eyes which had been so soft not so long ago.

“A treacherous sea serpent,” Balin continued, “or sea dragon, whichever lore you follow. He destroyed our city and stole our reserves of pearl and precious sea gems. But most of all, we lost a good many of our people to the beast. We live in hope of reclaiming our homeland.”

“But we are too weak,” Thorin bit out, “Our numbers are depleted and we cannot gather the strength we once had. Even the other great kingdoms have forsaken us.”

“There is more than one kingdom?” Bilbo asked, half in wonderment and half in sorrow under the knowledge of everything he’d just learnt.

“There are seven,” Balin answered, “and ours used to be the greatest.”

Bilbo was prevented from enquiring further with the arrival of their tea which Bilbo had nearly completely forgotten about.

“Thank you,” he told the waitress.

“Can I get you anything to eat?” she asked them, casting a glance to the young brothers who were still enjoying themselves by reading the menu.

“We’re ok, I think,” Bilbo said, leaving it open for the others to suggest anything but they shook their heads.

“Ok, let me know if you change your mind,” she said, giving the boys one last curious glance before moving off to one of the other tables.

Bilbo allowed their words to settle in his mind as he prepared three cups of tea, Balin being able to suit himself in the matter.

“If we could have a chance of gathering our strength and building up our resources again, we may have something akin to the shadow of the life we had,” Thorin said lowly.

“How many of you are there?” Bilbo asked.

“Few thousand at most. We lost many to the beast, and others have managed to take refuge with the other kingdoms. But they cannot shelter us all and I refuse to beg at their gates again!”

“If my idea works you won’t have to,” Bilbo said calmly and he watched as the fire dimmed in the King’s eyes. Perhaps Robin had not been wrong when he had said that they had ignited the fury of the sea against them. Bilbo continued, “If I can generate enough public interest in balancing fish stocks and takings, allowing populations to recover, we may be able to swerve the ball in your favour.”

“You can’t reveal the information you have learned about us,” Thorin countered, brow furrowing slightly as he thought over Bilbo’s plan.

“If I do this right I won’t have to.”

“What are the chances of this working laddie?” Balin asked.

“Slim,” Bilbo conceded, “But this is the best I have. I am a journalist, I tell the stories and try and persuade my audience. This is what I’m best at. And it’ll take a few weeks to generate the right interest, but after the boat disappearances, time is in our favour. Fishing groups are becoming more reluctant to brave it out there now.”

There was an aching silence then as they all pondered what little options they had and sipped their tea. Bilbo studied Thorin’s expression as he absentmindedly scratched his beard.

Sighing deeply, Thorin said, “If this is the best option we have, it can’t hurt to try.”

“Some of them won’t like this,” Balin warned.

“No,” Thorin relented, “But I am their King, and they have followed me this far.”

Their eyes met for a moment and Thorin looked to be able to say something, but then he stood. “I need some fresh air, care to join me master Baggins?”

Confused, Bilbo nodded, “Sure,” he said and reached into his pocket for his wallet. Taking out a fiver, he placed it on the table, “Give that to the waitress when you’re done,” he said when Fili and Kili looked between the money and him.

Ignoring the way Balin twinkled at him, Bilbo followed Thorin outside. They did not speak as Thorin led him across the beach, but after a couple of minutes, Bilbo broke the silence, “How did you know I would seek you out today?”

“I suspected you would not wait long before seeking us out and I had some matters to discuss with Balin,” Thorin answered, before adding, “I wanted to thank you for continuing to go out of your way to help us.”

Bilbo shrugged, “I’m just doing my job.”

But Thorin’s face remaining serious as he cast a glance down at him, “From what Balin has told me of journalists, not many would touch such an issue as this.”

“Someone’s got to,” Bilbo chuckled humourlessly, “Admittedly I was apprehensive about coming here again.”  

“You’ve been here before?”

“With my parents,” Bilbo said with a small pang of sadness, but it was a smile which lightened his features. “They both died of pneumonia a few years back.”

“I’m sorry,” Thorin said softly.

Bilbo shrugged, “S’alright. The memories I can look back on now in happiness rather than sadness.”

“I feel I cannot let my ghosts lie until I do right by my people,” Thorin said and Bilbo wondered who he had lost, and whether he had been king during the downfall or Erebor. But he did not ask, they were not his demons to pursue unless Thorin wanted him to know.

“And what about yourself?” Bilbo asked, “Can a King not afford a moment of selfishness?”

“I live for my people,” Thorin answered, but Bilbo could hear a hint of regret in his tone.

As they came to the end of the stretch of beach, their way barred by a cliff and the oncoming tide, they stopped and gazed out to sea and the setting sun before them.

“Then I promise you this,” Bilbo said, choosing his words carefully for he did not make promises lightly, “should we succeed, I will have you take a day away from your duties and I will show what true English tea should be like.”

Thorin smiled gently, “If you can succeed in your endeavour to help us, I would be honoured.”

And as they stood watching the setting sun, later to be joined by Balin, Fili and Kili, Bilbo did not feel as though he was in the presence of a king. He never really had with Thorin, and he suspected he would be much different amongst his people, but if Bilbo had to say anything about the man beside him, he would have said he was simply a man lost in a sea of his own troubles.

And Bilbo just happened to be the man who found him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter before I wrap this up and move onto another multichap fic in this series :) The next fic is going to be rather special indeed ;) 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed :) Please let me know of any mistakes, having to post this before dashing off to the lab for some tech work but I hope it's all ok :P 
> 
> Have a majestic day!


	4. Chapter 4

Revolutionary some would come to call it, others- a bitter cry in the vastness of the ocean. But for Bilbo, his article had done what he had hoped. It had gathered attention. And with attention came change, if people chose to address it.

Bilbo sipped his tea as he glanced over at the headline of the morning paper, ‘Missing Boats and Overfishing- Is Nature now fighting back?’ The townspeople had reacted in a whole host of ways from anger, towards himself or the damage done to the sea or in sadness that something so prominent in their town had caused so much pain.

But if Bilbo knew anything better than anybody, it was that the truth was often painful. And it was not his job to paint a beautiful lie, it was to tell a story. And a story he did.

Or at least, part of it.

A familiar face took the seat across from him. The man’s suit was dark grey and his grey beard clipped tidily around his wizened face.

“I thought you might turn up soon, Gandalf,” Bilbo remarked, smiling over his cup.

Gandalf chucked, “I thought it best to congratulate my best employee and dear friend in person. Not everyone could have caused the stir like you did.”

Bilbo tilted his head, “Didn’t Radagast cause a stir recently on the topic of Hedgehog road safety?”

His friend nodded, “Yes, but not on the scale you did. Scientific and conservation organisations are rallying behind you, spreading the word and pushing once again for change.”

“I doesn’t mean anything will change,” Bilbo admitted regretfully. And that was the truth of the matter, people would turn a blind eye to anything they didn’t like, and this was just one of those things.

“No,” Gandalf agreed, “But change is inevitable in the end, whether good or bad. And there will come a time when people cannot ignore the tragedies of the world. I just hope it will not be too late…”

“As do I,” Bilbo agreed, feeling the mood darken somewhat in light of Gandalf’s ominous words.

But then Gandalf’s eyes softened marginally, the crinkles around his eyes deepening, “Did you ever find out where those boats went?”

Bilbo’s nose twitched, “I may have, and my article explains enough of the matter. The one world people cannot dominate is the sea and that’s because it is already claimed by nature. We are but temporary residents of this world after all.”

“Quite right,” Gandalf chuckled, “You will have to tell me the whole story one day.”

“It doesn’t have an ending yet,” Bilbo said, giving more than he was planning to. But knowing Gandalf, he had already guessed the truth and more.

“Then I suggest you continue onwards my dear fellow,” he replied.

Looking down at his watch Bilbo nearly jumped out of his seat, “You’re right,” he said hurriedly, gathering up his paper and notes and shoving them into his bag. “I’m already late, I’ll have to talk with you more later.”

“Enjoy yourself,” Gandalf said, smiling all too knowingly.

Bilbo nodded, gathering himself as he bid Gandalf farewell and hurried to his car.

He had a promise to keep.

*

Thorin was stood on the beach with his back to him, facing the waves as he watched them roll onto the shore.

“Intimidating, don’t you think?” Bilbo asked as way of greeting, coming up to stand beside the taller man.

He glanced down at Bilbo, giving him a small smile, “I should show you it all one day. When we take back what is ours and rid the world of that foul serpent, pearls and opals shall flood the seas once more. Then I will show you what a true kingdom of my people looks like.”

Bilbo smiled, “Your offer is greatly appreciated, but I cannot swim.”

Thorin raised his eyebrows in surprise, “Don’t tell Fili and Kili that, they’ll insist on teaching you.”

“And you?” Bilbo asked with amusement.

Thorin grinned, “You do not need to know how to swim with me there, I shall guide you,” he promised, and Bilbo had no doubt that he would, when the time came.

“So what now?” Thorin asked after a moment’s silence.

Bilbo shrugged, “We wait, I suppose,” he said, “It appears that enough public interest is being gained for now, and it will not be long before local governing bodies are forced to take notice.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Thorin said. And when Bilbo frowned, he said, “What do you have planned for us this evening?”

The confusion cleared from Bilbo’s face, feeling relieved that he would not be asked about politics for the rest of the evening. “I believed I said I would show you what a true English tea is like.”

“That you did,” Thorin agreed, making to follow Bilbo as he headed off towards the carpark. But then he hesitated, looking back towards the ocean as though torn.

Smiling gently, Bilbo walked back towards him, patting his arm. “The ocean and your people will still be here when you get back,” he reminded him, and Thorin tore his eyes away from the water at long last. “No crowns, no newspapers or responsibilities tonight.”

His lips twitching, Thorin replied, “Agreed.”

They walked then, side by side, away from the ocean and all that surrounded it, allowing themselves to indulge in some selfish fun for a while. And for a night at least, Thorin was not a king, nor Bilbo a journalist. They were simply people, of a slightly different kind, but people all the same.

*

_10 years later_

His pace was not as youthful as it had been, but Bilbo wouldn’t go as far as to call himself old. He was simply tired, a heavy weight on his shoulders and heart that would not lift.

Something which did not ease with every beat of the wave against the rocks of the shore.

A few years ago, Thorin had decreed his people ready to take back their home from the dreadful serpent which had taken it from them. Following Bilbo’s article, the seas around the beach had become restricted, with fishing closely monitored with fish populations to allow species to recover, including the merpeople.

And in all those years, Bilbo had barely heard a whisper of their whereabouts, just rumours and nothing to go on. Not even for an investigative journalist.

But every few months, on a date he’d agreed with Thorin, he came out here and waited. Thorin had promised that he would return on these dates and times should he be successful, not knowing how long exactly his quest would take.

And after both had confessed their desires for one another in turn, Bilbo promised he would wait. And he always kept his promises.

Now he just needed Thorin to keep his.

Eyes scanning the sea, Bilbo stuffed his hands in his pockets, warding off the cold and inevitable disappointment. He always waited till the sun had gone down and the stars had come out, and the sun was just dipping over the horizon, casting a long golden light across the water.

Waiting, he heard another come beside him whom he’d assumed was a curious local.

But then the voice spoke, “This is a rather familiar sight.”

Gasping, Bilbo turned and his eyes widened as they fell on Thorin’s figure. Gaping, he looked between the ocean and the man, “I-I was expecting… did you…”

“I had to make myself somewhat presentable,” Thorin said bashfully, before drawing Bilbo into a close hug, pressing kisses into his hair. Bilbo clung back just as fiercely, allowing the scent of the ocean that hung over Thorin, fill his senses.

“I have reclaimed my home,” Thorin continued, “And now I have returned to fulfil my promise to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if the ending is a bit, meh, I may come back and add to this but got some block on this story ending rn and this was as best I could wrap it up. And I may do a sequel showing more Bilbo/Thorin as I didn't get the chance to explore that properly here.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it :) Thank you everyone who supported it!
> 
> Have a majestic day!

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably inspired by the fact I now live by the sea and fishing politics comes up a lot, so I've decided to add a super natural element to it :) Plus, for those who don't know, a huge number of dead whales are washing up on the coasts of Europe, including Britain which is very sad, even more so for the fact no-one knows why. Sorry for that depressing note, but I promise this fic won't follow those tragic events :P 
> 
> Anyway, Bilbo will be meeting Thorin in the next chapter so stay tuned :)
> 
> Have a majestic day!


End file.
